Mourning Predator
by Hazelstar
Summary: She was gone, and I was here, alone as the day I was born. I cried, I sobbed, I wailed. It was a dark sound, anyone who heard it probably thought it was coming from an injured beast. It was the sound of pure, raw pain and grief. It was the sound of mournig


Author's Note: This is something I wrote to get my PJO creative juices flowing again.

That stupid daughter of Aphrodite! That stupid, stupid girl! Why, why did she have to go and get herself killed? Why did she have to try and be a hero? Why did she have to leave me alone?

Most of the camp calls her a traitor, they scorn her name, smirking and sneering whenever her name comes up. They sneer like the arrogant fools they are and make snide comments. I usually let them go, sending only a withering glare their way or a low threat.

But, one of the new campers, a son Apollo, went so far as to suggest that she was the Titan's whore, screwing the Lord of Time whenever he called for her services and spreading her legs to whoever paid her.

Never in my life have I ever gotten that angry, never in my life have I felt pure and utter hatred, pure rage, coursing through my veins than when those words ricocheted through the sword arena. Instantly, the campers who had fought in the Titan War grew silent and still, their eyes flickering to the new kid to where I stood, my back to them.

I grew tense, my muscles tightening in the struggle to keep from lashing out at the poorly informed new kid. Even that idiot Percy Jackson was silent. He gripped onto Annabeth's hand, and I could feel the daughter of Athena's gaze drilling a hole in my back. "What did you say?" I growled softly, still facing away from the kid.

"I said that the whore from the Aphrodite cabin deserved what she got; anyone who spreads their legs for a couple of quarters to Kronos deserve to die" said the new kid in a smug voice. My grip on the hilt of my sword tightened until my knuckles went white, and without warning, I whirled around and punched the moron in the jaw, bashing him on the shoulder with my sword hilt. I was rewarded with the heavy crunch of bone as my sword made contact, but it wasn't enough to quench my bloodlust, my anger, my hatred.

"You cocksucker! I'll make you pay" I screeched, lashing out with my foot. I caught him square in the jaw, knocking him backwards, and I followed up with a kick to the gut, knocking the air from his lungs. My eyesight was nothing but a crimson red haze, a blood haze. I screamed in a mixture of English and Ancient Greek, cursing him and his entire family to unspeakable acts of torture in Tartarus. I rained countless blows on his body, barely even noticing when Jackson attempted to pull me off.

Without breaking the bloody rhythm I had found, I reared back and elbowed him sharply in the face, feeling something warm and wet burst. I'd caught him on the nose. Every punch, every kick, landed perfectly on the pig's body, making him squeal in pain, breaking his bones.

I was a daughter of Ares trained in all forms of combat imaginable; he was just a child of Apollo who had only taken a couple of sword fighting lessons. The odds were not in his favor at all. He didn't put up a fight at all, and in a few moments, I realized he was still and bloody. My hands were smeared with blood, and through the red liquid, I could scarcely make out mangled flesh and the sliver of bone in my knuckles. My sword had long been discarded in favor of my fists.

I slowly rose to my feet, the anger gone, replaced by sorrow and unbearable pain. A crowd of onlookers had been drawn into the arena, and they stared at me, wide-eyed. In the distance, I could make out the shape of a dust cloud, and I knew Chiron was on his way.

I took a step forward, and a few people flinched, as if expecting me to hit them. I ignored it and kept grandmother used to tell me when I was little. I caught sight of Annabeth, watching me warily, like one watches a wild animal they aren't sure will attack them or not. Jackson was next to her, pinching his nostrils shut and head tilted back in attempt to staunch the blood flow. Annabeth gave me a slight nod, telling me to go.

I nodded in return and without a glance back, sprinted away from the arena, heading towards the Aphrodite Cabin.

The cabin was empty; all the goddess's children were at the stable for their activity slot. The walls were painted bright, cheery colors, and all the bunks were neatly made. Various clothes and make up were strewn haphazardly across the floor. In the far corner of the room stood a single queen sized bed, the vanity besides it looked dusty and unused.

The bed was neatly made, but it looked unused. The vanity still had containers of various makeup stacked up on it like building blocks, though the mirror was grimy. I crossed the room in three long, quick, strides and fell onto my knees besides the bed.

Tenderly, I touched the comforter that had once covered _her_ body as she slept. It was a gentle shade of yellow, not that bright, overly disgusting yellow favored by the Apollo kids, but a soft yellow, not exactly dull, not exactly bright.

Gently, ever so gently, my hands moved to caress the pillow she had once slept on. I picked it up and held it close to my face; it smelled just like her. The scent was soft, a mix between her favorite perfume, Beyoncé's Heat, her strawberry shampoo and her unique scent. It was delicious.

The tears came then, slow at first, then gaining speed, coming down faster and faster until they came by the hundreds, no, the thousands.

I cried, I sobbed, I wailed. It was a dark sound, anyone who heard it probably thought it was coming from an injured beast. It was the sound of pure, raw pain and grief. It was the sound of mourning.

I, Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares, cabin leader, and badass warrior, sobbed like a teenage girl who had just lost the person they loved most in the world. That's what I was at the moment; a girl that has just lost everything.

She was gone, and I was here, alone. As alone as the day I was born.

My legs have gone stiff from being in the same position for such a long time, but I don't care. The tears still fall, but their numbers have lessened and trickled to two or three a minute. Through a window, I can see that Apollo's chariot is slowly driving the sun away. It is dusk. The Aphrodite children haven't come in here; even though they were due back here a couple of hours ago.

It is then that I realize the camp is silent. There is no laughter, no voices, not even the whispering of the wind. Complete and utter silence. It seems that the camp had been silenced by the wail of grief that was torn from my throat. When a predator mourns, the forest grows silent, listening to the sound of mourning coming from the beast.

When a predator is stricken by grief that is when you must get quiet, because in their sorrow, a predator strikes at anything that it can hear or see. In a twisted way, the camp is allowing me to cry in peace. They won't disturb me, only a fool disturbs a mourning predator.

A/N: This is dark, even by my standards. I just wanted to bring a little Clarisse/Silena into the fandom. It can be considered Yuri if you squint hard enough, or if you want, the relationship between the girls can simply be friendship. In all honestly, I didn't really like how this story ended, but I'm too tired to fix it. Read and review please.


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